Friday, March 25, 2016

I
left the Greenwood on Monday afternoon, and I haven't been back
since. I spent my last two days there avoiding everybody, including
Apple Blossom, until she decided that she missed my company after her
Monday lesson. I was holed up in the fairy tale room, scribbling away
in my notepad. It had become my favorite room in the palace, and I
suppose that's why she thought to look for me there.

“Hey,”
I said, peering over my notepad to look at her.

“Hey.”
She sat down beside me. I didn't bother to ask if she was still mad
at me. We were silent for a good long while.

“I'm
leaving today,” I informed her without looking up.

“You
don't have to,” she protested. You could've knocked me down with a
feather! “I don't have to?” I asked, making sure that I heard her
correctly.

“No,”
she answered, “you don't have to.”

I
couldn't believe it! She wasn't angry! I had spelled out full intent
to betray her and her people, and yet she still wasn't angry! She
even wanted me to stick around! If anything, that made me feel even
more like a jerk and even less like I deserved to stay an extra day.
“Apple Blossom,” I said, trying to smile, “you are the kindest
little soul I know, and I really mean that. But I've got to get home
to my own world.” My own
world—that's
what it is, and I'mno
better than any one of the other “tan-skinned beasts” that define
it. I could see why the Jadeites, and the tree elves before them,
hated us so. Our very nature goes against every bit of theirs, and
Apple Blossom's insatiable kindness and the reluctant but unruffled
tolerance of her people provided living proof of that.

“Okay,” Apple Blossom conceded,
“but I liked having you around here, Aidyn. It was just like you
were my real sister. You'll come stay with me again sometime, won't
you?”

I set down my notepad and gave her a
big hug. But I had no answer beyond, “We'll see.” I hoped she
wouldn't automatically take that as a no, the way that human children
so often do.

Before I packed up, she rounded up
her band of friends and we all played together on the banks of the
Bell's Rush, chasing and frolicking and tossing rocks into the water
to make satisfying “plops.” At one point, Wildflower came running
over to me with her fist curled around something. “What did you
catch?” I asked, and was appalled to see her fingers clasped around
a terrified little fairy, wailing something unintelligible as she
struggled to get free. “Let her go, Wildflower!” I said sternly.
“Let her go right now!” Stunned, Wildflower set the fairy down,
and I did my best to help the poor thing uncurl her wings and get
back on her feet. She took off as soon as she was able to leave the
ground, and I turned to Wildflower. “Don't you ever do anything
like that again, you hear me? You could have really hurt that poor
little fairy!” I guess I'd raised my voice a little bit too much,
for she recoiled like I had boxed her ears, and I softened. “What
if some much bigger thing picked you up and squeezed you in its hand?
You would be scared, wouldn't you?” She nodded. “Then you don't
do it to anyone else,” I told her. “You don't do things to others
that you wouldn't want others to do to you.” It was part of the
Golden Rule, a human philosophy that so many humans neglected to
follow. “If you want to show me a fairy,” I went on, “then you
lead me to her. You don't pick her up and take her to me. Do you
understand?”

She nodded again, and I patted her
on the head. I wasn't sure that she understood all of that, but I
knew she wouldn't squeeze the life out of fairies anymore. When I
returned home late that afternoon, and my phone service returned with
me, I realized that I myself had been neglecting that Golden Rule. My
phone was backed up with unread texts and missed calls from Katie; it
was the first time she had ever been completely unable to reach me
during a retreat. As I scrolled through those texts, I ruminated on
just how horribly I had treated my former best friend. Yes, she had
messed up and destroyed my trust in her, but even before that, I had
treated her like crap. After spending the whole summer avoiding her
in favor of this entire secret life I had, I'd finally let her in on
the secret, as we had done with all of our secrets ever since the day
we met. She had only wanted to be a part of it, and not only had I
denied her that, but I made an active attempt to drive her away.
Maybe she told the others because she was concerned. Maybe she told
the others because she was tired of my crap.

But still, in doing so, she had put
the Jadeites in danger...or had she? If they were in any danger, they
didn't seem to know it. The king himself did nothing more than turn
his passive-aggressive silence on me; no sentries were posted, the
gates remained open and unguarded, no preparations were made for a
possible attack. And really, what had Katie done? She told two
nobodies that I was telling stories about an elf in the woods. It
wasn't exactly unusual for me to tell stories. Did they even believe
her? They'd seemed pretty convinced that we were pulling their legs,
or that I had gone out of my mind and taken Katie with me. Never once
did they indicate that they would go stomping through an elven
forest, destroying everything in their path, all because of a story.
Why in the world would they do that, even if they did believe the
story?

They wouldn't. I had assumed that
they would because of what I saw in those books, what I'd heard from
Apple Blossom, and how I had been regarded by the Jadeites since day
one. I hated humans—my own kind, as if I was any better!--because
the Jadeites hated humans. I viewed them as ugly, beastly creatures
simply because I had been told to, without ever learning the whole
story behind it. In turn, I had become an ugly beastly creature; a
horrible person who treated one set of friends like dirt and betrayed
another one.

I hate myself.

9:25 PM

I've never been to the Greenwood so
late in the day before. After a visit with Katie, I headed on over to
see Apple Blossom. I had actually contemplated taking Katie with me,
but decided that it just wasn't the right time.

It is Katie's custom to bombard me
with questions at the end of every retreat, and since this was the
first one I'd returned from with no pictures or souvenirs (I hadn't
thought to take any pictures), her question supply had increased
tenfold. On the day of my return, I had been subjected to an
hour-and-a-half-long phone call about where I had gone, and what the
environment was like, and what I did there, and how deep in the woods
it had to be to cut out my phone service. And it pains me to say that
I lied my way through that entire phone call. Though I had decided to
forgive Katie and understood that I had been a bad friend to her, I
wasn't yet ready to tell her where I had really been for those four
days. Today, though, I told her everything, leaving out the betrayal
because she had asked about my vacation and that had nothing to do
with it. I watched her eyes grow wider with every word I said
(amusingly enough, she reminded me of Apple Blossom). When I
finished, she had fallen into a sort of haze, and I knew that she
needed a few moments to take all of it in. The first thing she said
was, “So that's why you weren't able to answer your phone.”

“No phone service in the
Greenwood,” I told her.

“So
they actually let you stay in the castle?”
she asked, as if to make sure she had heard me correctly. “You're
not making just that part up?”

“I'm not making anything up,” I
told her. “They let me stay there, and they want me to do it again,
or at least Apple Blossom does.”

Katie
shook her head, and I wondered if this was just a little too wild for
her to believe. I mentally cursed myself for not thinking to take any
pictures. Finally, she said, “Aidyn, you are the most amazing
person I know. At this point, if you told me that you've been to
Narnia or to Atlantis or to Fairyland, I would believe you without
question. If anybody could bring a world to life that we all thought
was only part of a story, it would be you. All of my life, I'd never
believed in things like fairies and elves. I figured they were only
little stories to tell children to make the world more interesting.
When you grow up, you know it's all make-believe. But now, I don't
know what make-believe is anymore. A part of me still wants to
believe that this is all an elaborate prank, but at the same time, I
know that it can't be. I've met
the elf, and she's as much an elf as an elf could be. It's as if
you've managed to cross the line between reality and fantasy, so that
now everything that was make-believe is real. You've done something
that we've all wanted to do when we were children, but just couldn't
figure out how. We just couldn't find the way, because we were all
told that there was no real way to find. Aidyn, you have no idea how
much I want your life!”

She spoke with longing, her voice
increasing in volume and speed with every sentence. If I had the key
to Narnia, the door to Atlantis, or the gate to Fairyland, she wanted
to go in with me...

On my way to the magnolia archway, I
half-expected to find my way closed off and the Greenwood soldiers'
spear tips pointed right at me. But when I got there, the web was
raised as if I had been expected all day. Apple Blossom was not
there, which unnerved me until I reminded myself that it was very
late in the day; usually, if I hadn't shown up by then, I wasn't
going to. As I made my way to the Greenwood alone for the very first
time, every sudden rustle of a shrub in the wind or a bird hopping
through the leaf litter gave me a fright. I couldn't stop thinking of
the guards and those spears...

I finally met Apple Blossom on the
other side of the bridge, stirring the surface of the Bell's Rush
with a branch to make ripples. “Hey there!” I called out, and she
jumped a little before turning to look at me. “Oh, it's you,
Aidyn,” she said, and I was so startled by the coldness in her
voice that I took a step back. I knew I had messed up then. Apple
Blossom had never spoken to me like that. “I'll go if this is a bad
time,” I told her meekly.

“I just thought you were finished
with me, that's all,” she said, focusing on the ripples in the
water.

“Oh dear...” I sat down beside
her. “I'm not finished with you! I don't want to be finished with
you, Apple Blossom. You're my best friend!” I put my arm around
her, and when she didn't object I pulled her into a full hug. She
returned it, wrapping her arms around mine and settling against me. I
knew that I was forgiven, and I knew that meant that Apple Blossom
was the best friend I or anybody else could ever have. If she could
forgive me after what I had planned to do, then I could forgive Katie
for her much smaller offense. We could all stand to be a little more
like Apple Blossom.

We spent the rest of the day playing
out in the forest, even setting out on an impromptu hunt for the
wish-granting “shekrumseh.” Apple Blossom described it as a
little blue creature that looked like a fat, wingless fairy and wore
a cape made from a maple leaf. Unfortunately, we didn't find it, so I
didn't get to see it for myself. “If we find it, what will you wish
for?” she had asked me expectantly as we were closing in on its
alleged lair.

“You aren't supposed to tell
anyone what you wish for,” I told her, “or else it's not a wish
anymore, and so it won't come true.”

“Where did you hear that?” she
asked with wide eyes. “I tell my wishes all the time!”

“Maybe it's just a rule for
humans,” I said. “You know, when you wished on the candles at
your birthday, you did the same thing that humans do on their
birthdays.”

“I did?” If her eyes got any
wider I was sure they would take up her whole face. “You did,” I
said with a nod. “Wishing on birthday cake candles is a human
tradition...and so is having a birthday party, and a birthday cake.
It seems to me that Jadeites and humans celebrate their birthdays in
the same way.”

“Can I come to your birthday
party, Aidyn?” she asked quickly. It was as if she already knew I
was planning to have two parties—one for Jadeites and one for
humans—for my December birthday. “My birthday is still a few
months away,” I told her, “but of course you can. In fact, I
already planned on inviting you.” She beamed. It still amazed me
just how human she really was, in spite of total isolation from
humanity. They were all human enough; they spoke a human language and
took part in human traditions such as birthday parties, they display
inherently human emotions and social desires, their monarchy system
and the architecture of the castle both have their origins in human
history and culture. Now that I really thought about it, I knew it
all had to come from somewhere.

There had been an alliance before.
The striking similarities between us are the greatest evidence of
that. Apple Blossom knew that—she had figured it out long before I
did. Now she dreams of another one, in her own time. As her best (and
only) human friend, I know I must do my part to make that dream a
reality.

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

It
was well into the night, and there was still no word from the boy.
The last report that he had made came early that morning, right after
he had stepped through to Rasta. But the still, steady glow in the
stone of the beacon ring at Sonja's finger told her that he was alive
and unharmed. That meant that he had been captured, or else he had
simply neglected to follow orders—and if that was the case, he
would be lucky to go to sleep without a whipping, much less with a
full stomach. I'm
going to have to go out looking for him, aren't I? Sonja
thought in exasperation. For
his sake, he had better be in prison! She
knew that the boy would find some way or other to cause trouble. In
spite of his incredible power, Sonja questioned the king's judgement
in employing him.

With
a crash of thunder from her clapped hands, Sonja roused her two
comrades. They shot out of their beds like rockets and blinked
stupidly for a few moments, still asleep in their minds even though
they had been woken. “The boy hasn't reported back to us,” Sonja
told them before they had a real chance to come to their senses.
“That means we go after him.”

Morgana
was the only one who stayed awake into the dark of night. After these
long, exhausting, much-too-bright days, the subtle glow from the
stars brought energy back to her, intermingling with and enhancing
the glow of her aura. She wandered uncloaked and free through the
starlit fields, flitting this way and that, sure that at any moment
she could lift herself up off the ground. She had turned her thoughts
to the comforting darkness, the quiet whispers of the night
breezes...and the little magic boy, who was away in the city,
relishing in the first good sleep of his life. Her pride was the only
thing that stopped her from begging him to teach her the secrets
behind his abilities. She would rather have swallowed a live fish
than go begging a fourteen-year-old human to mentor her. Still, the
power to engulf an entire army in inescapable flames was a compelling
one. He was the only human that she had any sort of fascination with,
even bordering on respect.

As
the darkness of the night grew, so did Morgana's aura. She grew
lighter and airier as it twisted, morphed, and shaped itself into the
form of glowing wings upon her back. Yes!
With
a bell-like she took a flying leap, and her wings pulled her up and
away from the ground. The dark of the night, the light of the stars,
and the summer winds converged, and she melted into them.

The
late night was the only time Morgana had for these private flights,
with darkness and starlight as her only and much-preferred company.
The landscape became a blur as she increased in speed, her wings
beating against the air with joyous vigor. She sang, her voice as
high and clear as a flute, and she was glad there was no one else
else was around to spoil the happiness that she found in solitude—at
least, until she spotted the dark figure making its way in and out of
the low-lying shrubs, thinking it was using the shadows to conceal
its presence. Oh,
stars above, Morgana
thought in dismay, already angry with anyone who dared to intrude
upon her euphoria. Like a bat swooping down upon its prey, she
cornered the figure, which was entirely concealed beneath a black
hooded cloak. Immediately, it struck out, stinging Morgana's ear as
she quickly turned her head. She grabbed both of its arms and
forcefully twisted them behind its back. “Start talking,” she
said dangerously. “No one with a brain would be padding around here
this late at night, and I've got no patience for those without.”

“I'm simply searching for
something,” a dainty voice answered from under the hood, “something
that I lost in these parts.”

“Try the daylight, then,”
Morgana said. “What sense does it make to go looking for anything
in pitch darkness? And now you're going to come with me; this place
is restricted and you've got no business here. Run, and I'll chase
you until your legs give out. If you're thinking about fighting me,
be aware that I have power that your little mind could not even
comprehend. Surely, your best option here is to come quietly.”

“And just who are you to
treat me this way?” the woman answered shrilly. “I am minding my
own business, I assume you were minding yours, and then you come out
of nowhere and start yanking me around like a bag of garbage! Who do
you think you are?!”

“Take off that hood,”
was Morgana's no-nonsense response.

“I
asked who you think you are, miss!” the woman snapped, and she
received her answer in the form of a white-hot fireball, held right
under her chin. “Take
off the hood,” Morgana
demanded. Trapped, the woman tossed her head back so that the black
hood fell away.

“That wasn't hard,”
Morgana said, calling off the fireball, “was it?”

“I'd still like to know
who you are,” the woman snapped, “and why you think it's at all
appropriate to treat me this way!”

“I am Rasta's Knight of
the Amethyst,” Morgana replied, “and now you are coming with me.”

Eluani was apt to awaken in
the middle of the night, and whenever she did it, she could never
settle herself back to sleep right away. Her dreams were vivid—both
the blessing and curse of a seer—and very often had some message to
tell her that she would have to spend a decent amount of time
decoding the symbols to unlock. Tonight, she was troubled by a dream
of Magus, curled up on an old, thin bed in a dull room, which Eluani
supposed had been his room at the mages' convent. He sat with his
knees drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped around himself, shaking
all over as if afflicted by some internal tremor. He did not react
when she approached him, and when she lightly brushed his shoulder
with her fingers, he looked at her as if he did not know her.

“Magus?” she inquired.
“Are you all right?”

He
did not answer her. His body shook wildly, and Eluani reached out
both hands to steady him. She drew back quickly when she discovered
that his skin was as hot as a burning stove, and then she screamed as
his body was completely engulfed in flames. She woke up in a cold
sweat, trembling all over. It's
only a dream, Eluani, she
wanted to tell herself, but she couldn't—she knew that her dreams
were rarely only dreams. She paced around the palace's grand lobby,
trying to make sense of it all. Those Aldinian soldiers on their way
to the city had been met with a similar fate by Magus' hand, so
surely it had something to do with that. But what did
it
have to do with it? Why had he appeared at the convent (she was sure
now that it had been the convent), and why had she been the one to
receive this vision at all? Had it been her own dream, or had she
been given a window into his? Had she received a view into his terror
and remorse?

The palace doors opened,
and Eluani abandoned her thoughts and steeled herself for a
confrontation. But it was only Morgana, dragging along some hapless
woman who scowled like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar.
It was clear that she had crossed Morgana in some way, and when
Eluani approached them both and gave the woman a look-over, she knew
the reason behind it. “Why do you stare at me like that?” the
woman asked shrilly, drawing back as much as she could with Morgana
holding on to her so tightly. “It's uncomfortable! Stop that right
now, or...”

“So you think you're
going to take back the boy,” Eluani said, and for a second the
woman looked as though she had unexpectedly been struck. “Well,
that just isn't going to happen. Whatever you promised him, he has
been given three times that. There's no need for him to return to
you. He...”

“And
what do you
know
about him?” The woman abandoned the facade of a scared and confused
wanderer, and now spoke like a predator that had cornered its prey.
Eluani would not divulge any details. “Everything,” was her
simple reply.

“Then you know that
you've no right to keep him here,” the woman said. “You've no
right to give him anything. He belongs to the kingdom of Aldine.
He...”

“Not anymore,” Morgana
interrupted. “The boy threw aside his loyalty to Aldine just as
easily as you humans chuck your garbage into the woods.”

“Explain!” the woman
demanded.

“We don't have to,”
Eluani told her. “Either way, he won't be going with you. And you
will be...”

Eluani shrieked as she felt
her body heat up as if she had been suddenly tossed into an oven. She
fell to her knees, twitching and writhing and beating at herself as
if trying to extinguish some invisible flame. In a second, Morgana
had the woman in a hold and herself enveloped in a protective veil.
She held on with all of the force that her willowy body could manage
as her captive struggled against her. If only she could work up a
good binding spell...but before she could even attempt, her captive
had broken free With a snap of the fingers, Morgana was blinded by a
flash. Awakened by the commotion, the other knights arrived to find
Eluani on her knees, breathing heavily against the pain from the heat
as it subsided, and Morgana fighting against the whiteness in her
vision. “She's escaped!” Eluani gasped. “She got out! Go after
her!” The knights did not ask who “she” was. They took off, and
Eluani noted that Alicia held the troublesome shuriken blaster as her
only weapon. Lovisa helped Eluani to her feet and examined her for
injury. “I'm all right,” Eluani assured her. “It was only a
spell. Get on out there with the others.” Lovisa obeyed, and
Morgana trailed behind her as her vision returned. Her aura blazed
with the intensity of a miniature sun.

Eluani sat down, wrapped
her arms around herself, and closed her eyes. She willed herself to
think only of Morgana's captive, scowling sourly like a child caught
in the act. All at once, the image changed; she was taller, stronger,
and her face bore an expression of grim determination. Rings gleamed
on the fingers of one hand, and in the other she held a wooden staff
in the shape of a serpent. Her robes were the purple and gold of
Aldine, with the coat of arms of a golden dragon embroidered at her
breast. Her name was Sonja Farrel, and she was the chief of the
arcane division of Aldine's army. Magus had been under her command...

Not
anymore! Eluani
thought jovially. The boy's ties to her had been incinerated right
along with those poor soldiers. Smiling, Eluani folded her arms and
waited for Sonja's inevitable return.

I
did it! I did it! In
any other circumstance, Alicia would have broken into song and dance.
She watched as her comrades overtook the fallen mage, who was still
trembling from the shock of the blast that had downed her. Alicia
kissed the barrel of her weapon whose message she had finally managed
to decipher: activate
the runes and the blades will detonate. “I
knew that I would figure you out!” she whispered to the weapon
before kissing it again like a new friend that she was glad to meet.

The mage was cornered like
a deer by a pack of wolves. Sure, she had some impressive magic, but
there were seven of them and they were closed in on her. Their mages
were no slouches either—Morgana and Rodin pushed their way to the
front, their eyes and the cold glow of their magic veils daring her
to try anything more. Ion had her by both arms and held her so
tightly that a struggle would do so much more harm than good. Alicia
pointed the blaster, her finger poised upon the runes that were
already beginning to glow green.

“I give up,” the woman
said stoically. “I surrender.”

“Good choice,” said
Troy, taking a rope from his utility belt and tying up her hands.
Upon removing the rings from her fingers, he noticed that one of them
bore a stone that gave off a series of quick blue flashes before he
slipped it off. He passed it to Morgana, who turned it over in her
hand before holding it above the woman's head as if to taunt her.
“Tell me what this is,” she demanded.

“A ring,” was the
mage's stony response.

“I
know it's a ring, fool! Tell
me what it is used for.”
Morgana slowed her voice as if she spoke to a toddler.

“It's a beacon ring,”
the mage replied, “for the communication of distress signals.”

“Crush it,” Morgana
ordered Troy as she handed it back to him.

“Yes, go ahead and crush
it, big man,” taunted the mage. “It's too late for that to make
any difference. By now I've sent out more than enough signals for my
comrades to pick up on—they can be rather dull, but they know a
signal when they see one.”

“Thanks for the warning,”
Morgana said dryly. “Troy, help me with this. The rest of you,
scout the area and leave not a single blade of grass overlooked.”
She hooked her arm through the mage's arm, and Troy clasped her bound
hands with one hand and her shoulder with the other. “I'm locking
her up in the cellar,” Morgana told him. “It's the closest damn
thing to a dungeon that we have around here. I'll deal with her, and
you keep watch at the door and send a report to the princess. I know
humans like to sleep at these hours, but there's got to be somebody
standing by.”

“What about Eluani?”
Troy asked. “What's she going to do?”

“I forgot all about her,”
Morgana admitted with a roll of her eyes. “Tell her to keep watch
at the doors; tell her what's going on, of course, but be quick about
it.”

Troy's automaton horse
stood against the bole of a willow tree, gleaming imposingly in the
moonlight. He set their captive down upon its metal seat and climbed
up behind her, folding his arms around her in a bind. She grunted
slightly, but made no attempt to resist. “Go on in front,” Troy
urged Morgana, but she shook her head. “I don't ride on these
contraptions unless it's necessary,” she told him, “and it isn't
necessary now. I'll lead ahead. If she gets the urge to jump, I'll be
right there to catch her.”

“I couldn't jump even if
the urge did strike,” the woman saucily replied, “not with Mr.
Big Man clamped down on me like this.”

“I'm just letting you
know that I've got both eyes on you,” Morgana told her. She went on
ahead and motioned for Troy to urge his horse after her. “And now,
tell me your name,” she ordered. “If you're planning on using a
fake one, we do have a psychic waiting back home.”

“Sonja Farrel,” the
woman responded. “By my honor, the honor of a master magician of
Aldine, it is my true name. And by that same honor, you won't get
anything else out of me.”

“That's fine,” Morgana
said. “I think you'll discover soon enough that I can get anything
I want out of anybody.”

For a while, all three were
silent. The peaceful songs of the summer insects and frogs seemed
almost deceptive. Then, Sonja asked sharply, “What business do you
have with the boy?”

“What
business do you
have?”
Morgana retorted.

“He was assigned to me by
the knight master, by the order of His Majesty King Harkinian,”
Sonja explained. “He is mine to keep after, mine to lose, and mine
to find. If you've got him locked up somewhere, then by the command
of King Harkinian, you will release him or I will take him by force.”

“So, he's the precious
lost thing that you were skulking around in the night for,” Morgana
said. “You know, it is disgusting that you speak of him as if he is
a common object or a pack animal. He is a being with a life, his own
mind, and a soul. He is not a thing to be passed around, lost, found,
and taken.”

“He is an unfortunate and
unwanted youngster with no place in the world,” Sonja insisted. “He
belongs to no one. He has no purpose, no direction, not even a bed to
sleep in at night. He exists at the level of a common rodent. And yet
the king had his own reasons for seeking him out. If King Harkinian
dictates that he is to belong to me from now on, then he is to belong
to me from now on, as the king holds the ultimate jurisdiction over
what is to be done about his common citizens, including the unwanted
rats that scurry in and out of the back streets...”

She could hardly get this
last word out before Morgana whirled on her, dealing two stinging
blows to both of her cheeks. She fell into Troy, who shifted as he
tried to maintain his grip on her. “You bitch, if you talk about
that boy like that again you'll be dead where you stand!” Morgana
hollered. Her anger shocked her; she had never before been compelled
to jump to the defense of a human. It was the way of the fairies to
settle their own business and let the humans settle theirs. But the
way this woman talked about a poor soul as if he was no better than
vermin filled her with red-hot fury. She was all set to strike again,
had Troy not called out, “Morgana, enough!”

“She's got no right to
speak of him that way!” asserted Morgana.

“Punish her in the cellar,” Troy told her, “not out here in the open And you,” he
added, struggling against the woman's attempt to break free and
retaliate, “you're not going anywhere. You asked for that, so you
just take it.”

“The way you treat your
prisoners in Rasta is disgusting!” Sonja snapped.

“And I suppose that over
in Aldine, you wrap them up in fluffy blankets and give them ice
cream?” Troy replied sarcastically.

Morgana was still seething,
and her aura pulsed like an increasing flame. But she kept quiet,
taking comfort in the knowledge that Magus had abandoned his loyalty
to Aldine, and so would never return to the vile woman who thought of
him as street filth. She made up her mind that from then on, he would
be under her personal protection; anyone who came around looking for
him would have to answer to her. The rest of the way was silent and
uninterrupted. When they reached the palace gates, Morgana turned to
Troy and said, “Go tell Eluani what's going on, then keep watch
here at the gates. Anything that looks like it might be out of place
very likely is. You can hand our honored guest over to me. I'll keep
her entertained, all right.”

“Roger that,” answered
Troy, and when Morgana raised a brow at him, he said, “That means I
got it.” He hauled the captive to his shoulder and slid down off of
the horse's back. Morgana worked up a binding spell, which Sonja
immediately objected to. “There's no reason for this! I have
absolutely no interest in taking off, not if it means being jerked
around by Big Guy all over again!”

“Well, now you can't,”
Morgana said coldly, “so it doesn't matter whether or not it
interests you. Besides, it saves me the trouble of rummaging around
for a pair of shackles.”

Troy saluted Morgana—a
distinctly human gesture that was completely lost on her—before
entering the palace. Really, she wasn't so bad. Her strong will made
her a competent soldier and natural born leader just as much as it
made her a disagreeable curmudgeon.

It was three hours past
midnight, and the fields had fallen as silent as fields ought to be
at such an hour. Admist the commotion of the previous hour, Rowley
and Shattick had kept out of sight as they made their way to the
capital city. Now that the sign marking the city entrance had finally
come into view, they realized that they would have to turn back;
something was wrong. Their beacon rings had gone completely dead,
which could only that Sonja had somehow lost hers, or else...no, they
wouldn't think about that. She had lost it, that was all, and as
Sonja was not the type to lose things out of carelessness, they could
only assume that it had been taken from her.

What
an inconvenience! It had taken them all of two hours to make their
way to the city, and now who knew how long it would take to find
Sonja? By the time they finally did enter the city, they would be
much too tired to do anything about it. Rowley imagined a warm room
in a welcoming inn; he heard that Rasta's “hotels,” as they were
called, were above and beyond the little brick inns of Aldine. But he
knew that Sonja would likely insist that they set up camp out here in
the fields. Another
night of stale bread for you, Rowley, he
thought disdainfully, and pondered the difference between hotel food
and inn food.

For the second time, they
passed by the site of a wildfire; it was far too dark to see any ash,
though Shattick had discovered some when he ran his finger over the
earth. Where grass and weeds had once grown was now a dull, lifeless
circle, and the nearby shrubs and reeds had been singed. The area
reeked of recent smoke and something else that neither of them could
identify but that they both hoped they'd never have to smell again.
They passed by quickly, holding their noses, feeling no need to
linger longer than was necessary—they had already investigated
enough on their first trek past here to conclude that this place held
no significance to them.

The vast fields branched
off into wild country that could easily go on forever before there
was any sign of Sonja or the boy. The six towers belonging to Rasta's
Palace of the Jewel appeared in the distance, gleaming pearly white
against the darkness. Stricken by a sudden epiphany, Shattick halted
in his tracks, and Rowley grunted as he knocked into him. “What are
you doing?” Rowley whispered fiercely. “Keep moving!”

“There it is,” Shattick
said, pointing to the glittering spires. “The Jewel's in there!
That's right where they keep it! If we head that way, we'll be there
in about forty-five maybe even thirty or twenty if we're super quick
about it.”

“Not without the
commander,” said Rowley. “You know we can't make a grand move
like that without her approval.” He spoke as if he was scolding a
schoolboy, and Shattick shot him a disapproving glare. “We could
spend all night and then some prowling around for her,” he said,
“or we could realize that we're only a hop, skip, and jump away
from what got us into this in the first place! Besides, won't she be
so thrilled when she discovers that we've got such a gift for her?”

“Their soldiers are
guarding it,” Rowley reminded him, “and if they were anything for
us to mess with, then we wouldn't have needed to send the boy over at
all!”

“And
just look how far the boy has gotten!” said Shattick already
heading in the direction of the palace. “Forget the boy; they
probably killed him and dumped him off somewhere. Perhaps they tied
him down and set him ablaze, and that's where all the ash and the
smoke came from. Either way, we don't have him, and we don't have
Sonja, but the Jewel is right
there, and
here we are, fully equipped! It's just too perfect to pass up,
Rowley! Who knows if the opportunity will ever strike again? We can
take on a few soldiers! We've taken on larger armies than
that! Now come on, don't just stand there looking stupid!”

In this mood, Shattick was
irrepressible. Rowley knew that he would be left behind if he did not
follow, and he was not too keen on a solitary battle with soldiers
that had managed to obliterate an Aldinian golem. With a sigh, Rowley
followed and bowed to the inevitable, hoping that his commander's
wrath would be the worst thing he would have to face when this was
over.

About Me

I'm Star Nova, and I like to tell stories. This blog used to be more topical, but then just became a place where I could easily hold my stories. I have several short stories and two big works in progress, as well as some old crap and some pending revisions OF some old crap.
I write in order to share how I see the world, from my own perspective. If you're here, you're probably here from Tumblr or Twitter. I hope you like my stories. And if you don't, I hope you at least read them before you decide that. (: